


All That You're Used To

by romanticalgirl



Series: I Must Be Lonely [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian's better, but better doesn't automatically mean fixed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That You're Used To

**Author's Note:**

> This one is 90% dialogue. Whoops.

Ian leans against his pillow, eyes closed and counting to three between breaths. He doesn’t register the sound at first, but eventually he realizes someone’s knocking on his door. He gets up, knowing it can’t be Lip coming back, since after the first knock he would have let himself in with his key. No one’s there when Ian opens the door, but he seems movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns and sees Mickey as he opens the door to the stairs. “Mick?”

Mickey stops and rests his head on the edge of the door for a moment then turns back. “Hey, Gallagher.”

“You want to come in?”

He can see the deep breath Mickey takes and fully expects him to keep walking. “You sure? It’s late. I didn’t realize the time.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Mickey nods and lets the door to the stairwell close. He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks back to Ian’s door. He stops in front of Ian, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a hint of a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Ian reaches out, fingers on Mickey’s chest over his heart. “Were you going out?”

“Gonna get a drink. Nothing important.”

“You sure?” There’s a sharp need to question Mickey further – Is he meeting someone? Does he want to meet someone? Was what happened between them goodbye? - but he knows it’s still his illness, pushing back against the medication.

“Yeah.” Mickey rocks up onto the balls of his feet then back down. “So, we gonna go inside or are we standing in the hallway all night?”

“Shit. Yeah.” Ian laughs and steps back. “Come in.”

Mickey smiles and walks in past Ian. Ian’s careful not to crowd him, not to touch him even though Mickey hadn’t flinched away from him earlier.

“You want something to drink? I’ve got water, juice, and soda. Lip got rid of everything else. He said he was trying to remove temptation, but I think he just wanted free booze.”

“Your brother continues to prove he’s a complete and utter dick.” Mickey stays standing, hands still in his pockets. “He and my sister still fucking?”

“Not sure.”

“Probably,” Mickey snorts. “Mandy has shit taste in guys. Well, the ones she dates. You and she hang out at all?”

“Yeah. A little. She was...well, she was kind of pissed. Not at me. Just at the situation. At you being hurt.” Ian looks at his feet then back at Mickey. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. It’s cool.”

“It’s really not. I mean, it’s my fucking reality, but it’s not okay.”

“Not like it’s something you can control.” Mickey shrugs. “I’m not going to hold it against you. I told you that.”

“I know, but I haven’t seen you since then. I thought maybe you’d come to your senses.” 

Mickey sighs and shakes his head. “Okay, I need you to stop saying shit like that. If I didn’t walk out when you were yelling at me to leave, to get the fuck out, then I’m not bailing now. And you saying things like that seems like you don’t want me around, but you don’t want to tell me to fuck off.”

“No. I do. I want you here. I do.” Ian nods. “So much.”

“Okay. Good. So...” Mickey laughs. “What now?”

“Well,” Ian says softly as he takes a step forward. He hates the uneasiness he’s feeling, hates that he’s so unsure. “I offered you a drink.”

“You did.” Mickey nods. He reaches out and takes Ian’s hand, tugging him close. Ian goes easily, his heart wild in his chest. Ian’s free hand settles on Mickey’s chest again, feeling the shift in his breathing, seeing the pulse in Mickey’s throat speed up. “Ian.”

“I love you,” Ian whispers the words, his lips parted when he finishes speaking. He looks at Mickey, trying to read his expression. Something twists in Ian’s heart when Mickey doesn’t say anything, even though he has no right to expect him to. “I...I know that’s not fair.”

“Usually isn’t.” Mickey sighs deeply, biting his lower lip after his exhale. “Ian...”

“I don’t want you to say it back,” Ian says hurriedly. He can feel heat staining his cheeks as Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up. “I mean, I do. But not...Fuck.”

“It’s okay.”

“Shit.” Ian laughs, but the sound is milky with threatening tears. “I’m fucking this up so badly.”

“No.” Mickey steps closer, fingers skirting Ian’s jaw. “You’re really not.”

**

Mickey’s heart is thudding. Ian’s words echo in his head, pulsing with the blood pounding through his veins. It’s like an echo, reverberating in his head. He wants to believe it. Believe Ian. More than he wants to admit. He traces Ian’s jaw, never once looking away from him. His thumb settles on Ian’s chin, pressure pulling it down, opening his mouth slightly. It’s just enough for Mickey’s tongue to slip past Ian’s lips when he kisses him.

Ian moans softly into Mickey’s mouth, pressing close. Mickey moves his hand to cup the back of Ian’s head, holding him in the kiss. Ian tries to move closer, tilting Mickey’s head back to adjust for the difference in height. Ian curves the long fingers of both hands around the back of Mickey’s neck, palms against the sides of his throat, thumbs in the hollows behind his ears. Mickey feels surrounded. Safe.

Loved.

He breaks the kiss, unable to breathe. Ian releases him reluctantly as Mickey pulls back, needing space. Ian takes a step away from him and clears his throat, his eyes full of questions. “I’m going to get a drink.”

“Sounds...yeah. That sounds good.” Mickey follows him into the kitchen. He does his best not to stare at Ian’s ass as he bends over, but he fails miserably. Ian straightens and turns, catching Mickey looking. Mickey blushes, his face hot as Ian grins.

“Grape or orange?”

“Uh. Grape.” 

Ian hands the soda over and opens his own. He takes a long drink, his throat working as he swallows. Mickey can’t help watching. Ian tilts his head in question, and Mickey busies himself opening the can and drinking his soda. “Can’t quite shotgun these.”

“Not really.” Mickey licks his lips. “I’m gonna have a fucking grape mustache.”

“It’s very sexy. It’ll go with your purple tongue.”

Mickey sticks his tongue out at Ian, eyes widening when Ian reaches out to grab it. Mickey laughs and dances away. Ian laughs as well, following Mickey, his thumb and finger acting as pinchers. “You’re an asshole.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Ian keeps advancing, finally backing Mickey up against the wall. “Gonna get you.”

“Fuck off.”

Ian switches tactics and catches Mickey’s nose between his fingers. “Got your nose.”

“What are you, five?” Mickey grabs Ian’s fist and tugs his thumb, acting like he’s putting his nose back on, indulging Ian because it’s so fucking good to joke with him. “You’re an imbecile.” Ian grins so wide, and Mickey smiles back in response. “It’s good to see you smile.”

“Feels good.”

Mickey takes another drink of his soda then sets it down. He swallows thickly and reaches out, his fingers damp from the soda can when he presses them to Ian’s throat. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Mickey,” Ian breathes.

Mickey clears his throat and pulls his hand away. “So when are you going back to school?”

“School next Monday. Work this Wednesday. Might be tending bar for a while. Shorter shifts while I build my endurance back up. Of course, that means interacting one on one with people...”

Mickey can’t believe what he’s about to say. “Wouldn’t short dance shifts be more profitable?”

“Yeah. But I’ve lost weight. Don’t fill out the shorts the same.”

“Trust me, you didn’t lose weight in your dick. I can assure you that’s what they’re interested in. I’ve _seen_ them.”

“You mean it’s not my sparkling personality?”

“Your tight, sparkling shorts.”

Ian laughs. “Something sparkling at least.”

Mickey bites his lower lip, gnawing on it for a moment. “You need money?”

“What?”

“You’ve been home for a month. Thought you might be a little short. With not working.”

Ian straightens, stiffens. “I have some saved.”

“Oh. Yeah. I just...I cashed out some vacation I wasn’t going to take. I could float you some cash if you needed.” He’s nervous, the words heavy on his tongue.

“I don’t need...”

Mickey cuts him off. “It’s not charity. Fuck that shit. Do I look like I’m a fucking philanthropist? It’s a loan. Interest and shit even.”

“Interest?” Ian’s mouth curves up as Mickey blushes.

“Yeah.” He can feel the panic subside slightly so he can actually breathe. “You know. Interest.”

“What percent?”

“I was thinking more that you could work the interest off. In, um, trade.”

“Is that so?” Ian’s full on smiling now. “So, like...”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Mickey can feel his face redden, and he has to wonder why he even lets himself talk. Being around Ian obviously turns him into an idiot. “You want a fucking contract or something?”

“I’d love to go to a lawyer to iron out the exact worth of a blow job.”

“Hell, just as a whore.” Mickey pokes Ian in the stomach. “Or, like, half the guys you work with.”

“Ouch.” Ian laughs. “Mean!”

“But true.”

“Yeah. There is that, I suppose.” Ian catches Mickey’s hand and threads their fingers together. “Stay the night?”

“What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“Easy?”

Mickey moves their hands, letting the back of Ian’s brush against his dick. “Nothing easy about me, Gallagher.”

“Everything’s hard, huh?”

“One of the known side effects of being around you.”

Ian rubs his knuckles over Mickey, making him harden even more. Mickey’s eyes flutter closed and he just lets himself feel, sensing Ian moving closer. “Stay?”

Mickey nods.

“I still don’t...”

“I know.” Mickey doesn’t open his eyes. “Just want to be with you. Need that more than anything else right now.” It’s easier to confess when he doesn’t look at Ian, even though it’s true and he knows Ian knows it.

“Yeah?”

He nods again and opens his eyes. He smiles at Ian, really relaxing for what feels like the first time in forever. “Yeah.”

**

Ian goes into work on Wednesday afternoon and looks around the club. It always looks shoddy in the daylight, needing music and lights to live up to its name. His boss, Arlo, is sitting at the bar while one of Ian’s coworkers calls out stock on hand. DeVon looks up from beneath the counter and grins. “Well, Ian Gallagher. As I live and breathe.” DeVon’s southern accent changes Ian’s first name to something with a few more syllables than it’s supposed to have. “Honey, you look like you need to get _fed_. And I’m talking about something other than cock.”

“Lay off him,” Arlo grunts.

“Laying and off don’t go together too often around here.” DeVon comes around the bar to give Ian a hug. “Lots of regulars asking about you.”

“Well, hopefully not for too long, assuming I can start work? If my job’s still available?”

Arlo snorts incredulously. “The way you fill out those shorts? Do I look fucking stupid?”

“The only way Arlo would get rid of you would be if he caught you giving Nancy head _while_ robbing the safe.”

“So I can get away with one or the other, but not both?”

DeVon slides a glass of whiskey across the bar to Ian. “Not at the same time.”

Ian pushes the glass back. “No thanks. And I guess my job is pretty safe then, since I have no intention of going down on his wife, no offense.”

“None taken.” Arlo looks him over critically. “You look like you’re still not feeling 100%. Of course, they’re not really going to be focused on anything but your shorts. You feel up to it?”

Ian wants to say yes, but he knows he shouldn’t. Mickey had stayed the night again, and this morning, he’d been sitting up in bed, hair standing up, and smoking a cigarette as Ian had dressed. He told Ian he’d be there when he got home from the club and made it _very_ very clear he was going to be checking on Ian, making sure he didn’t overdo it.

“Half and half?”

“Sounds good.” Arlo pulls the glass over and swallows the booze. “Missed you around here, kid.”

“Thanks.” Ian feels lighter, like every new step sheds a weight he didn’t know he’d been carrying. “I'll see you tonight.” He taps the bar and leaves, walking with his hands in his pockets. He’s getting better. He can feel it. The meds are working. He’s still not himself, but he’s getting there.”

“Hey, dickface.”

Ian ignores the taunt until he realizes he recognizes the voice. He turns and Mandy’s sitting on the hood of someone’s car and she wiggles her fingers in a wave. “Dickface?”

“Means you’re family.” Mandy hops off the car and walks over to Ian. “Lip said you’d be here today.”

“So you thought you’d stalk me?”

“First of all, I’m talking to you, which makes me a shitty stalker. And second, it’s one of the benefits of my job.”

“Stalking?”

“Working from home so I can stalk. Come on. I’m starving. I’ll buy us lunch.”

“Do I actually have any say in this?”

“Nope.” 

Ian sighs, but it’s more for effect than anything. “Didn’t think so.”

They walk in silence, Mandy frowning intently at the ground and Ian trying to ignore the tension building in his stomach. Mandy nods toward one of the hundreds upon thousands of little mom and pop dinners around Chicago and Ian follows her inside. They’re on the outskirts of Boys Town, so Ian imagines they’re used to an interesting mix of clientele.

“This is about Mickey?” Ian asks as they sit down.

“You’re practically a fucking genius.” She softens her tone. “Have you seen him lately?”

“I hadn’t. But he came over the other day. We talked.”

“Talked? Or _talked_?”

“He’s spent the last two nights, but just talk.”

“Seriously? Two nights and no dicks involved?”

“Not a dick in sight.”

“Why not?” Mandy tilts her head. “Dicks are the basis of your relationship.”

Ian frowns. “No they aren’t. I mean, it started that way, but it’s not anymore. I’m...I’m in love with him. Have been.”

Mandy’s mouth twitches, though it’s not the threat of a smile. “Because I told you he said that?”

“What? No! Jesus. You sound like Lip. I didn’t realize fucking him meant you were going to turn into him.”

Mandy sighs. “Sorry. I just worry about him. Mickey. He doesn’t put himself out there. He doesn’t see guys more than a handful of times, if that. And he...Mickey doesn’t let people know how he feels. But he told you and he told me. That’s huge.”

Ian nods. “I told him that I love him. Said it the other night. He didn’t say it back, but...he stayed the night. That has to mean something, right?”

“Calm down.” She kicks his foot. “Pretty sure you don’t just not love someone if they don’t say it back or are in the middle of a mental breakdown.”

“Nice. Thanks.” She smiles and Ian smiles back. She looks like the Mandy he’s used to, not the one who wants to rip his limbs off for hurting her brother. “So, Lip huh? My warning just fell on deaf ears?”

“We’re just fucking. No strings. No emotional attachments.”

“The past three girls he’s dated have ended up decking him. He’s a shitty boyfriend, and he doesn’t even have the excuse of being crazy. He’s just a natural dick. I mean, he’s my best friend, but he’s a dick.”

“You think he’s screwing me because he doesn’t like Mickey?”

“Please don’t say that, because this is veering toward some weird soap opera pseudo-incest place that I’m really uncomfortable with. How about we stop talking about our siblings?”

“Well, thanks for taking _me_ to that place too and grossing me the fuck out. Now you have to distract me.”

“We could go window shopping.”

Mandy grins widely. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

**

Mickey’s exhausted when he gets home from the club. He’d been in the attic of the house all day sweating in the over 100 degree heat, and he’d had to break up two fights and call the cops on some creep who tried to get backstage. Every muscle hurts and all he wants is a beer, a shower, and his bed.

He yawns wide enough that his jaw pops as he’s getting off the elevator. He can see light coming out through Ian’s partially open door. His chest clenches with panic, and he hurries over, knocking as he pushes the door open. “Ian?”

Ian’s in one of his chairs, head tilted back, eyes closed. Mickey curses under his breath and goes over, sitting on the coffee table and tapping Ian’s knee. “Hey, Gallagher.”

There’s glitter in Ian’s hair and his eyes are rimmed with kohl, so Mickey knows he was on the floor at the club, which explains the exhaustion. A little.

“Hey. Sleeping beauty. Stop dreaming.”

“Mm. Dreaming ‘bout you.” Ian smiles and stretches, arching off the chair. “You’re late.”

“Long night. Your door was open.”

“Wanted to see you.”

Mickey sighs. “There’s this whole newfangled phone thing where you can leave messages or send texts.”

“Newfangled?” Mickey flips him off and Ian just smiles. “Wanted to surprise you. Must’ve fallen asleep.”

“Might be a sign that you’re tired and should get your ass to bed.”

“Want to have my ass in bed with you.”

Mickey sighs. “My plans are a beer, shower and bed.”

“I just want bed.” Ian yawns and looks at Mickey sleepily. “Could go to your place and wait for you to shower. Get the sheets all warm.”

“This is the lamest attempt at seduction ever. You going to start telling me about thread count now?”

“Would it work to get you to let me crash with you?”

Mickey rakes his fingers through his hair and sighs, though it’s really just for show. “Come on. Jesus. But no fucking spooning. Got it?” Mickey fights his grin as Ian smiles. They’ll wake up with Ian wrapped around Mickey, and Mickey will bitch, and they’ll both know he doesn’t mean a word of it.

“No spooning.”

Mickey sighs again. “Fine.” He grabs Ian’s hand and tugs him to his feet. “You’re going to get glitter all over my sheets.”

“Sparkly Mickey.” Ian closes his eyes and leans heavily on Mickey.

“You didn’t have something to drink tonight, did you?”

“Sober as a judge. Are judges always sober? Because that would suck.”

“Only when they’re judging. Come on, Goofy. Let’s get you to bed. Where are your keys?”

“Dunno.” Ian’s brow furrows. “Door? Coat?”

“You need a fucking keeper. You’re wearing your coat. Check your pockets.”

“Could pat me down. Ooh. Play cops and robbers.”

“Did you take your meds today?”

Ian digs in his pocket and produces his keys triumphantly. “Yeah. All of ‘em.”

“Did you take something at the club, maybe?”

“Don’t think so. Could be. Did three lap dances.”

Mickey growls under his breath and closes Ian’s door behind them, locking it up before he hauls Ian the short distance to his own apartment. He unlocks the door and steers Ian into the bedroom and onto the bed then goes back to turn the deadbolt and get a much-needed beer before going back to check on Ian.

Ian’s got one shoe dangling from his toes and his jeans unbuttoned. “You’re a fucking mess. Don’t take candy from strangers. Didn’t growing up on the south side teach you anything?”

“C’mere.”

Mickey takes a long swallow of his beer then sets it on the bedside table. He grabs both of Ian’s hands and tugs him into a sitting position so he can strip off Ian’s coat and shirt.

“Mm.”

“Shut up, you horny bastard.”

“Love you, Mick. ‘n you love me. Look at me like you love me.”

“You’re stoned out of your fucking head.”

“’m right. Gon’ marry you. Gon’ marry you ‘n have your babies.”

“Yeah? Defy the laws of biology, huh?” He eases Ian back onto the bed before tugging his shoes off. “Hips up.”

“Gon’ rim me?”

“Seriously? I’m guessing the old sex drive is back.” Mickey tugs Ian’s jeans down and groans. Ian’s commando, his cock hard. “God, Gallagher. You’re _killing_ me here.”

“Come t’ bed.”

Mickey sighs, thinking he’s probably going to break a record for the most in one night. He strips down and gets on the bed, bracing himself over Ian. “You’re right,” he whispers.

“Mm. ‘m always right.” Ian’s eyes close and Mickey just looks down at him. Ian’s already asleep or passed out, his face relaxed, his lips curved into a smile.

Mickey strokes his fingers lightly over Ian’s cheek. “I love you.”

He eases off Ian and stretches out next to him. He still needs a shower, but now that he’s in bed, he’s got no desire to get up. Instead he shifts over, head on Ian’s chest, hand over his heart. He wakes up in the same position, though Ian’s hand is over his. Ian’s still out. Mickey looks at the clock and groans. It’s too late to go back to sleep, but still too early to get out of bed. He moves closer to Ian, looking at the sharp cut of Ian’s jaw before stretching up to kiss the curve of it.

“Mm.”

“Shh. It’s early. Need your sleep.”

Ian turns his head, looking down at Mickey with half-closed eyes. “Head hurts.”

“Imagine it does. You were on something other than your regular meds last night.”

“Can tell.” Ian groans. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to get me something for my head?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I won’t whimper until you go to work.” Ian takes his hand off Mickey’s and traces his brow. “And I promise to be completely clean and sober when I get home.”

“Oh. So we’re not gonna play cops and robbers then.”

“What?”

“Oh, you don’t remember that? Wanting me to pat you down and cuff you? You were all for it. Offered to get me a uniform and let me use my...what’d you call it? Night stick.”

“Oh my god.” Ian’s eyes widen. “I _said_ that?”

“Are you saying you didn’t mean it? Damn.” Mickey sits up and starts to get off the bed, but Ian grabs his wrist tight enough that Mickey knows he’ll have bruises.

“Wait.”

“Thought you wanted pain killers.” Ian pulls Mickey down until he’s practically on top of him. Mickey raises an eyebrow. “You want something else?”

Ian cups the back of Mickey’s head and kisses him hard. Mickey can’t help smiling into the kiss and he can practically feel Ian’s frustration. Mickey pushes Ian away and back down onto the bed before trailing kisses down Ian’s chest, working his way down.

He can feel the curve of Ian’s dick as he nuzzles the rough yet silky hair at the base. “Dressing up turn you on?”

Ian huffs heavily. His dick is curved toward his stomach, pre-come catching on Mickey’s hair. “Mick.”

Mickey turns his head and slides his tongue from the base of Ian’s dick to the tip. Ian’s hips lift as Mickey licks the head, the tip of his tongue pressing against the slit. Ian sucks in a breath and Mickey shifts up onto his hands and knees so he can take Ian in his mouth. Ian moans throatily as Mickey takes him deep.

Mickey loves Ian’s dick in his mouth. Loves the heavy weight of it on his tongue, the length pushing against the back of his mouth, to his throat. Ian’s always hot and thick even when he’s not hard, but like this he’s amazing, filling Mickey’s mouth the way he fills his ass.

Ian reaches down and tangles his hand in Mickey’s hair. There’s just enough pressure to hold Mickey down, but not too much that he can’t fuck his mouth with Ian’s cock. Ian starts to thrust up, Mickey’s name falling from his lips. Mickey sucks harder, tries to take him deeper. He can feel tears burning his eyes, drying on the hot skin of his cheeks. His mouth hurts, spit gathered in the corners of his lips, the skin pulled tight.

“Fuck,” Ian gasps. “Fuck, Mick. Please. Please. Jesus. Want...gonna...”

Mickey tightens his mouth around Ian, the hint of his teeth scraping at his dick. Ian mutters something thick and unintelligible as he comes, still babbling as Mickey sucks him through the aftershocks of his orgasm before pulling away. 

Mickey looks down at Ian, feeling satisfied. And possessive.

Ian grunts and reaches for Mickey, kissing him, licking into his mouth until all they can taste is each other, breathe is each other. Mickey bites and tugs as Ian’s lower lip. “I’ve got to go to work.”

“’s my turn to do you.”

The alarm goes off. “Sorry. I’ll just have to jerk off in the shower. You’ll have to wait your turn.”

**

Ian goes into work early, so he doesn’t see Mickey between jobs. It’s probably for the best, because all Ian’s wanted to do all day is nail Mickey to the wall and fuck him until he begs for mercy. If Ian had run into him, they both would have missed their shifts.

The night takes forever to get over, and Ian’s careful not to eat or drink anything at the club, just in case. When his shift finally ends, he hurries home. He hears Mickey moving around so he knocks. Mickey looks freshly showered. He also looks like he’s about to fall asleep. Ian can see bruises darkening his skin.

“What happened?”

“Some handsy go-go dancer got all fresh with me.”

“You know handsy go-go dancers?”

“Just one.” Mickey yawns. “I’m going to bed. To _sleep_. You coming in or are you just going to stand there and sparkle in the hallway all night?”

“Can I use your shower?”

Mickey yawns again. “C’mon in. Just don’t expect me to entertain you.” He turns and heads for the bedroom. Ian knows Mickey’s tired, but he can’t help focusing how insanely hot Mickey’s ass looks in his boxers. He follows, shedding his clothes on the bedroom floor and heading into the bathroom naked. He glances over his shoulder and smiles when he catches Mickey watching.

“Not _that_ tired, huh?”

Mickey flips him off and Ian laughs as he turns on the water. He lets it get hot before he steps in, groaning as the spray pounds down on his tired, sore muscles.

“You having sex in there or something?”

Ian groans louder, ignoring Mickey calling him an douchebag. He scrubs himself roughly until his skin is tingling then gets out, drying himself before going back to the bedroom. Mickey’s lying face down, but he’s clearly not asleep. “You okay?”

“Another fight tonight.” He pulls his shoulders forward and they pop. “Full moon.”

Ian climbs on the bed, settling on the back of Mickey’s thighs. His dick slides against the crack of Mickey’s ass, but all Ian does is run his hands up Mickey’s back from just above the curve of his ass to his shoulders.

“Mm.”

Ian smiles at the soft sound, straightening up and pulling his hands back. He repeats the movement several times, increasing the pressure with each upward stroke. Mickey hums each time, low and warm. Ian’s cock is hard against Mickey’s ass, but he ignores it, concentrating on the tightness of Mickey’s muscles. He presses his thumbs on either side of Mickey’s spine, rubbing slow circles into his skin.

“Fuck,” Mickey breathes against the pillow, turning his head to the side. “They teach you this in lap dance school?”

“Physical therapy class.” Ian runs the pads of his thumbs up to the back of Mickey’s neck. “Lap dance school involves learning how to massage other things.”

Mickey huffs a laugh that melts into a groan.”Shit. Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to do this?”

“Do you know how to juggle?”

Mickey looks back at him over his shoulder, obviously confused, his brow furrowed. “What?”

“Do you?” Ian splays his hands on Mickey’s shoulders and presses down, fingers digging in. He leans in as he does it, feeling his dick sink into the crack of Mickey’s ass.

“O-oh. Fuck.”

“Juggle, Mick.”

“No, I don’t f-fucking juggle.”

“But you have some other talent I don’t know about.”

“All my...” Mickey takes a moment to catch his breath, his hips lifting off the bed and pressing against Ian. “You know all my talents that make you feel good. You’ve been...ch-christ.” Mickey flat-out groans and Ian feels his dick swell at the sound. “Been holding out on me.”

“Pretty sure ‘holding out’ is the exact opposite of our relationship.” Ian leans forward and places a kiss on the back of Mickey’s neck, humming against his skin.

“Fuck me.” Mickey says it softly and, to Ian, it sounds like he means something else. It might be simply because he wants to believe it, believe that Mickey can love him still, can love him again.

“Yeah?” Ian braces himself and slowly thrusts, his dick sliding along Mickey’s crack. He’s already leaking and he knows he’s leaving a sticky trail on Mickey’s skin. “Like this?”

“Want you against me. N-nothing between us.”

“Nothing.” It’s not a question so much as an agreement and Ian reaches for the lube.

“Just enough. Just enough to slick yourself up. Want...”

Ian groans against Mickey’s neck and shifts back just enough to stroke lube onto his cock before guiding it to Mickey’s opening. Ian presses against him, groaning roughly at the resistance. “So fucking tight.”

“C’mon.”

Ian pushes harder and they both gasp as he presses past the tight muscle. Ian rests his head between Mickey’s shoulder blades as he feels the smooth skin of Mickey’s ass flush against him. “God, you feel so good. Perfect.”

“F-fuck me, Ian. Please.”

“Yeah.” Ian kisses the top of Mickey’s spine before moving slowly until Mickey’s looser around him, then he speeds up, snapping his hips harder. Mickey’s panting, begging for more. Ian shifts and he knows he’s hitting Mickey just right when Mickey’s words devolve into desperate sounds, a thick, low whine that sends a shock of pure heat down Ian’s spine to his cock. “So good,” he groans, his voice thick.

Mickey shudders out a breath then he tightens around Ian, his body jerking as he comes. Ian falls apart before Mickey finishes coming, his hips jerking erratically as he spills himself inside Mickey. Mickey doesn’t move beneath him other than the rapid rise and fall of his breathing and an occasional shiver whenever Ian’s hips move, his cock still filling Mickey up even though he’s not hard anymore.

Mickey mutters something and Ian licks the sweat from the back of Mickey’s neck. “Hm?”

Mickey clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “Said I love you too, asshole.”

“I know you do.” Ian’s heartbeat speeds up, going a mile a minute at hearing the words. He presses his smile to Mickey’s skin. “I’m pretty fucking loveable.”

“You’re a dick. And _you’re_ sleeping in the wet spot.”


End file.
